Murder Me With Love
by Poisonous Picasso
Summary: Lemon -Sort of- Mello and I are obsessed with each other. We are the poison that snakes through each other's veins. Slowly, painfully, we'll kill each other.


"I wonder if L felt this way," I whisper into the darkness. The moon falls gently over Mello's lightning blue eyes, catching the gleam of the steel knife he's gripping tightly in his leather-clad fist.

For a moment, his eyes widen with shock, and then darken back into that hideous hate. He grins, slowly, a catlike motion, moving closer to me like a lazy river, flowing, ever-so-gently to it's destination.

"I think I understand what Backup felt like." He whispers, his breath heavy and dark with the scent of sweetly bitter chocolate that's always hanging from his mouth. He inches closer, moving painfully slow, intracately placing his body so there's no chance for escape.

"What's it feel like?" I whisper to him, unafraid, twirling my hair around my index finger nonchalantly. After all, this is not the first time he has attempted to kill me. He snickers, a sick sound clouded over by the grayish night.

"Sick," he admitted. "But wonderful." His voice was so malicious, so full of hate that it was almost a hiss, sounding almost the way L had described Backup's voice in the colorful tales he always told.

Mello has obviously practiced for his moment of victory.

And suddenly, that certainty that was planted so firmly in my heart, the feeling that screamed _"He won't do it!"_ is gone. Disappearing like a heavy breeze after the initial storm. Slowly, I raise my head, not yet fearing him, but wary of him now.

Our eyes meet, his are shadowed by hate and insanity. The need to kill, to cause bloodshed. I feel fragile, exposed, vulnerable under that sharp, lightning gaze.

"That's the problem with you." I know I'm provoking him, but, as planned, he draws back. "You're always feeling more than one emotion at a time. That's what allows me to surpass you. You're too easily led-on by the amount of emotion you feel." My voice has risen an octave, that quiet certainty has returned.

He looks at the knife in his hand, a small frown pulling at his Cheshire cat smirk. He turns his eyes upward, raking them over me slowly, sickeningly, as though sizing me up.

"Maybe," his voice is a low, sensual purr, that makes chills creep gorgeously up my spine. He takes a step closer, and that certainty, again, vanishes. "Maybe you're right, but isn't it good to feel? Isn't it so much better than being locked behind and emotional mask?"

He touches my face gently and, just as I'm about to lean into the not entirely unwelcome touch, he digs his nails in, dragging them slowly, almost seductively down my face. I let out a small moan, knowing that I'm sick. Knowing that only a disgusting, filthy little _whore _would get off on a burning pain such as that.

"Wh-what was that for?" I whisper up to him, losing the calm haze that usually clouds my mind over. Everything is pleasantly sharp, like a painting done intricately for an artist's maiden. Customized only to my liking.

"Tearing off your mask. I want to see the real you, Near, I want to know what you're truly like, under the layer of emotionless skin you put on. Why do you block us out?" He's gotten real close now, his heavy, chocolate-scented breath tickling my face, cooling my burning cheek. He leans forward, running his tongue over the bloody claw marks on my face. I let out a small moan, reaching up to touch his face, hair, chest.

"You're a whore, you know that?" He whispers to me, seeming to have read my thoughts from earlier, grabbing one of my pale hands and digging the knife into my wrist. I let out a loud moan at the sudden pain, loving it as much as I hate it.

His smirk his cocky, he knows he's finally winning at something, and I know, that, I'm probably going to die. I've accepted it, but as long as I die in the arms of Mello, I'll be satisfied.

After all, who wouldn't want to die with the person who caused them so much pain, so much pleaure? His hands flew to the buttons of my white pajama shirt, quickly unbuttoning them with one hand, while carving something into my chest, not deeply, but enough so I could feel it.

I looked down at my chest.

_Mihael Keehl_

In two neat rows down my chest. I rais my head to look at him, the scent of blood causing my mind to momentarily recoil. I was breathing heavily my heart beat erratic, his smile driving me closer and closer to the edge.

...and he isn't even undressed yet.

"Look at yourself, you whore." He whispers leaning in close to whisper into my ear, biting down hard on my earlobe, causing another loud, shameless moan to emanate from me. He pulls me over to the mirror, and, as commanded, I stare into it.

I don't look like myself.

I'm _not_ myself.

My cheeks are flushed, my lip fat and bleeding from where I've dug my teeth relentlessly into it. Blood is dribbling slowly, grotesquely down my wrist, dripping off the ends of my blue-tinted fingernails, my cheek is clawed, the blood clotting at the curve of my chin, and my chest is signed by the person who clearly, always has, owned me.

Mello comes into view behind me, tall, wiry-muscled, feminine, beautiful. His blonde hair dusting his jawline, his blue eyes taking me in. He dips his head to bite my neck, hard, drawing blood. I watch my face contort with pleasure, a loud moan escaping my lips.

He takes my other hand, digging the knife deeply into my arm, neatly ripping a vein. Blood seems to explode, draining from my body faster than my heart can pump it.

In a matter of minutes, I'll be dead.

But does that really matter?

He watches as I fall to the ground, the edges of my vision turning black and hazy. I'm gasping for air, my heartbeat's slowing slightly.

"I love you, Mihael Keehl."

And has I take my last, gasping breath, I watch him dig the knife into his neck, blood begins to drip, then flow, and he falls beside me. One arm falls over me.

And as I begin to fade, the world turning from black, to white, I hear it, the words that follow me through to wherever I end up.

"I love you too, Nathaniel River."

**Murder Me With Love**

**By: Picasso**

**7/9/10**


End file.
